


More Than Enough

by PFDiva



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Cute, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:17:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PFDiva/pseuds/PFDiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane and Dirk are good friends who love each other very much, but aren't IN love with each other.  And that's ok, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Enough

You are comfortably sitting in Dirk's lap and snuggling, watching horror movies to commiserate the death of any chance of getting with Jake English (AKA, the most oblivious guy at Skaia High.)

He hooked up with some cosplayer named Serket. Apparently, /she/ likes Avatar, too.

Stupid Jake and his stupid blue girls.

Not that either of you really has any place to complain.

Neither of you has ever been brave enough to approach Jake with your interest, you due to your figure (Round is totally a figure!) and Dirk due to the stigma of homosexuality.

Even though Dirk CLAIMS he's cool with being "queer as a two-dollar bill," Dirk's older brother teases him a lot about his sexuality. It's supposed to be in good fun, but you know how much it cripples Dirk's self-esteem.

You and Dirk are sharing a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough that never actually managed to become cookies, when Dirk pauses in the middle of chewing and looks at you thoughtfully.

"What?" you ask, stealing the spoon back so you can get more sugar into your body. You're going to be up all night, you just know it.

"Jane, would you marry me?"

You pause.

"But you're not into chicks."

"Neither is Tom Cruise."

Dirk blandly scoops two more spoonfuls of cookie dough into his mouth while you stare at him, open-mouthed.

"But we're not into EACH OTHER!"

"Not an issue to the government."

You're beginning to panic, because the world is suddenly tilting on its head. Everything you know is flying out the window. The sky is orange, your family's company is evil, and Dirk Strider is proposing to you.

"WHAT?!"

Dirk winces away from your volume.

"Calm the fuck down, sheesh. I don't mean right this second--"

"But we're not even OLD enough--"

"Or even when we turn 18."

You're talking over him, because you are slightly hysterical.

"Where is this even coming from, Dirk?"

He shrugs and eats another spoonful of cookie dough.

"I was just thinking about marriage and love and what makes up a good relationship. You and I aren't a couple, and we aren't in love, but we have a really good relationship."

To prove his point, he eats your forgotten spoonful of cookie dough right off your spoon. Skinny fucker's eaten all of the cookie dough. You barely had any, and you MADE it. You menace him with the empty bowl, and he attempts to defend himself with his puny little spoon. As if such a tiny thing could hold a candle to the plus-sized goddess that is your mixing bowl.

You spend the next few minutes enacting an epic battle with two spoons and a mixing bowl before the two of you mutually decide to search the kitchen for more sweets. You've found a box of brownie mix and fudge icing in the cabinet when Dirk reminds you that you were having a highly-disconcerting conversation.

"So Jane, WOULD you marry me?"

"I don't know," you whine, waffling as you move away from the cabinet to display your prizes. You don't know when Dirk snuck a gallon tub of moose tracks into your fridge, but you love him just a bit more, so you amend your answer. "Maybe? If you liked girls, and didn't eat all the cookie dough?"

He offers you a fond smile and a spoon.

You put your finds away for now. They will be delicious later.

The two of you spend a few minutes enjoying the ice cream at the kitchen island. Your dad would disapprove, but he's not home to shed his fatherly disapproving aura in your general direction. You do what you want. But Dirk's waiting.

"I guess I'd marry you. I mean, for health insurance, or whatever. Why?"

Another shrug.

"Like I said, I was just thinking about relationships, and how much you and I SUCK at them."

"Screw you! I'm so great at this, uhm....even Einstein would go daaaaaaang."

Dirk just looks at you. Ok, even you're willing to admit that particular comeback flopped. But not to him.

"Ess-tee eff you, Strider."

"AAAAAAANYWAY, as I was saying. I was thinking about how bad we are at the relationship thing, and it occurred to me that we've got a pretty decent relationship with each OTHER, even if it's not romantic."

"Well, yeah, but you've got a great relationship with Roxy, too! We both do!"

"True, but Roxy's actually good at this shit."

You concede the point with another spoonful of ice cream.

"Also, as much as I love Roxy, platonically, I couldn't see marrying her, living with her, raising a family with her and all of that stuff."

You brandish your spoon at him, "Is this about the baking thing? Because I am the heiress to a multi-billion-dollar industry. I can't be a HOUSEWIFE."

"No, but I could."

You could see it. Dirk cooking, cleaning, taking care of bills and kids. Wearing frilly little pink aprons with lace around the edges. You snort at the mental image and he grins at you.

"It was the aprons, wasn't it?"

"You'd look SO stupid."

"Pink and frilly, of course."

"For the IRONY, right?"

"Noone more ironic."

Dirk pushes his shades down to bat his eyelashes at you.

"Welcome home, wife. Would you like dinner, a bath, or....me?"

You try not to choke on your ice cream laughing at Dirk, and he looks smugly pleased with himself. He always looks smug when he makes you choke on something laughing. It's a matter of pride for him.

Eventually, you manage to regain your composure and you pointedly push the tub of ice cream away from yourself.

"Ok, so you'd make the stupidest-looking housewife, while I go out and make money. The only issue is what if I find a housewife who ISN'T you and doesn't look stupid in a frilly pink apron?"

"Well, that's why I've got a proposition for you. If we're both single at 40, we should get married."

You're both 15. 40 seems like a whole lifetime away. In literal terms, it's almost three times as long as you've been alive. How could you not have found someone by the time you're 40?

"Deal."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The years pass and you and your friends remain in loose contact. Pesterchum, Betty Bother upgrades that aren't full of ads, email, that kind of thing. Your work with Crockercorp keeps you far busier than you ever expected, and most of the people who want to date you are really just trying to get your money. A few are more genuine, but can't withstand your work ethic. It's disheartening.

You've reached the age where noone really notices or comments on your birthday, even you, so it's a surprise when the secretary calls up to inform you that you have a delivery for your birthday. You tell her to send it on up.

Your gift is brought by a devastatingly handsome blond man in a heavy jacket. He doesn't wear his pointy anime shades anymore, having given them up for more practical transitions lenses. The fact that they never quite brighten enough is a boon to his albinism-weakened eyes.

You don't run over to hug him, especially not in the heels you're wearing, but you do sedately walk around your desk to squeeze him tightly.

"It's been far too long," you tell his shoulder.

"And who's fault is that?" he asks your hair.

It's yours, and you know it. You've been consumed with your work and with making Betty Crocker an even better company than it already is. You pull away and give him a playful punch in the shoulder, which he takes with a dramatic show of pain and agony.

You laugh at him, remembering your friendship and youth with him fondly.

“I heard Jake married his blue girl's older sister?”

“Yup, and they've got a munchkin together. Roxy's married, too.”

“Calliope, right?”

“Who'da thunk it, right?”

"No kidding. So...what's in the box?"

He's brought you a plain white garment box, the kind shirts and things get put in for Christmas.

"Why don't you find out?"

You open the box to find a pink apron with words monogrammed on it in delicately-scalloped white lace: "Welcome home wife."

"You remembered."

"I've got a ring, too."

"How do you know I haven't changed my mind about all that?"

"Have you?"

"No."

"That's how I know."

"Gimme that ring, before I shove it up your nose, Strider."

"Why, Madam Crocker, that is domestic abuse and that is WRONG."

"Your face is wrong."

Both of you explode into laughter at your utter immaturity. You forgot how easy it was, being with Dirk.

The next year is hectic for both of you. Contrary to impressions, Dirk does have a job, it's just an online one that he can manage anywhere. You're not sure what he does, and based on the necessary supplies, you're not sure you want to. But he gets stuck with the bulk of the wedding preparations.

You hire a wedding planner and let Dirk make all the decisions.

He threatens you with garishly gaudy designs, and you intentionally ruin his fun by being exuberantly excited about them.

Later, the two of you laugh about the colors the wedding planner turns at the more horrific ideas.

The wedding is small and tasteful.

Everyone who knows the two of you is suitably shocked.

The two of you laugh about that on your honeymoon, which is a cruise in the Mediterranean. You manage to get yourselves kicked off the cruise halfway through and you fly back to the States well-pleased with yourselves.

Your marriage to Dirk is full of laughter.

It's filled with laughter when Dirk asks you to wash his back after you snipe at him for not showering the week you were across the country on a business trip.

It's filled with laughter when you show him the centerpiece you've stolen as apology for forcing him to go to the fifth official function in as many weeks.

It's even filled with laughter as the pair of you nurse emotional wounds after your extroversion combined with his introversion causes a screaming match fit to bring down the house.

You learn that Dirk was right: You might not be IN love with each other, but the love you DO have is more than enough.


End file.
